Chapter 1

I used to be all dirty talk and bold moves. Who knew I'd end up marrying a bland, ascetic saint who wouldn't even touch me.

Finally, at my breaking point, I filed for divorce and lied, saying I'd cheated on him.

He completely fell apart. "Then break up with him. Why are you divorcing me? What does your affair have to do with our marriage?"

So I switched tactics and said we were just incompatible.

He pulled out a chain and suddenly bound me to him, recreating the intimacy from last night. "Didn't you enjoy it? I was pretty thorough with you. How exactly are we incompatible?"

Wait, what? How did my aloof husband suddenly turn into a dark, obsessive yandere?

*****

It was that time of the week again, our weekly sex night.

Lucas Smith was already in bed, all cleaned up, while I was in the bathroom getting ready.

My phone buzzed with a message from my bestie, Charlotte Johnson.

She was complaining about her college boyfriend again, how he was so clingy, always taking up her time, both in and out of bed.

She sent: [Girl, I'm so exhausted, it's like my body's been plowed so much nothing can grow anymore.]

Then another message popped up.

She sent: [I'm seriously about to tap out. Your Professor Smith is so calm and reliable. Older guys really are more steady.]

I couldn't help but frown at her text.

Seriously, this girl. I knew she was just sweetly complaining after getting laid.

Sure enough, another message popped up right after: [Is Lucas still only having sex with you once a week?]

I was feeling flustered and a bit pissed off, so I just shot back: [Yeah].

She instantly sent me a dog head meme, all cheeky, and added: [Why don't you teach him a lesson?]

I paused for a second, then replied: [A slap? Come on, that's a bit over the top. If we're talking slaps, I only want them when we're between the sheets.]

Charlotte, frustrated: [I meant, show him what it's like to be cheated on.]

I was about to reply when Lucas turned off the bedroom lights and switched on the nightlight.

That was the cue. It was time for our weekly session.

All thoughts of chatting disappeared. I got myself together in a hurry and rushed out of the bathroom.

Lucas was lounging against the headboard, casually wiping his gold-rimmed glasses.

It was such a laid-back move, but it only made his shoulders and back look even more defined. He just couldn't hide that grown-man charm, no matter how hard he tried.

I gave him a once-over.

Lucas was in great shape. Even in a bathrobe, I could still see the tight lines of his waist and abs, and I could totally see the outline of what he was packing, even through the robe.

Too bad he was all looks and no substance.

He'd be all stiff, but wouldn't actually use it.

Honestly, with that sharp nose and those long, elegant fingers, he totally looks like he'd be wild in bed. But ever since we got married, it's just once a week, never more, never less.

I just couldn't figure out what was wrong.

As I lay down next to him, his cool, clean scent washed over me.

My thoughts were running wild as I reached out, my palm pressed against the warm line of his waist under the bathrobe. I was about to slip my hand further in when he caught me, holding my wrist steady.

"I'll be gentle," Lucas murmured, his voice low and husky.

I nodded, staying quiet, and cuddled closer to him.

The next second, he pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. "Good girl."

After an intense session that ended all too abruptly, I was still clutching the sheets, craving more.

Lucas had already slipped away.

In the blink of an eye, he was up, back turned to me, bent over the nightstand, searching for something.

"What are you doing?" I asked, my voice still hoarse.

He turned around, holding a tube of cream in his hand.

"Guess I got a little too into it earlier. Thought you might be hurting a bit..." Lucas walked over, pulled back the covers, and said softly, "Let me see if I was too rough on you."

I was speechless.

I stared at his serious face, then at the tube of "anti-inflammatory and pain-relieving" cream in his hand. Here we go again; this familiar, speechless feeling washed over me.

All the things I wanted to say were stuck in my throat.

Really? What made him think I was actually hurt?

It was just one round. I wasn't even warmed up yet. Did he seriously think I was that fragile?

"I'm fine..." I muttered, trying to push him away.

"Good girl, let me take a look," Lucas said softly, his hand already reaching over, gentle as if I might break. "I got a bit carried away earlier. If you end up sore or swollen, you'll be miserable tomorrow."

I just lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling, letting him fuss over me.

Sometimes I seriously wondered if I'd married a husband or a mother hen in disguise.

Lucas and I met through a blind date.

Last New Year, my 35-year-old brother said he was bringing his partner home. When we asked for details, he just mumbled, "It's a guy."

We all thought he meant his partner was from Amitra City.

But when my dad finally got a good look at the handsome guy standing next to my brother at dinner, he just froze, then slumped back in his chair, totally stunned.

When the ambulance showed up, Mom grabbed my hand.

"No way. I can't let you turn out like your brother. I'm setting you up on a blind date right now. Gotta make sure you find a nice guy and stay on the straight and narrow," she blurted out.

The next day, Lucas, my dad's star student, came over to pay his New Year's greetings.

Mom said he had a car, a house, and no parents to worry about. Seriously, a total catch. The only downside? He was five years older than me.

I was so dazzled by his looks that I rushed to convince Mom, "Five years is nothing. He's a keeper. Life with him will be a breeze."

Everything went smoothly, and right after the New Year, we got our marriage license.

Back then, I was totally hooked on his classy, aloof look, never thought that after tying the knot, he'd actually turn out to be a real prude.

Lucas called out to me again, asking if I wanted some water.

I nodded, and he smiled indulgently, holding the glass to my lips.

As I drank, I slipped my bathrobe off on purpose, letting the water run from the corner of my lips down my neck, playing coy and seductive at the same time.

But he didn't even blink. He passed me the glass and marched off to the bathroom like he was on a mission. "You worked up a sweat. I'll run you a bath. Soaking will help you feel better."

Watching him walk away, I realized I probably wasn't being obvious enough. Lucas was just too straight-laced. I guess I needed to be more direct with him.

So when he finished running the bath, I got up and made sure I was completely naked, just to make it crystal clear.

But the next second, he practically bolted out of the room, totally flustered. "I'll hand-wash your underwear for you. Take your time in the bath," he stammered, not daring to look at me.

With that, he even closed the bedroom door behind him, ever the considerate one.